


Five Times Words Fail Gene Hunt

by Nepthys



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-13
Updated: 2008-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nepthys/pseuds/Nepthys





	Five Times Words Fail Gene Hunt

1\.   
   
He's been wondering when it would come to this, and finally it has. One of their regular arguments in the pub continues outside as he and Sam walk home, and it escalates in the usual fashion, which means that after trading a couple of blows Gene has hold of Sam's lapels and has him pinned up against an alley wall.  
   
But there's something in Sam's eyes and the set of his mouth this night that makes Gene's words die on his lips and instead of arguing his case he's rooted to the spot, breathing heavily. And Sam raises his chin, challenging Gene in a way that has nothing to do with their heated words and everything to do with heat of another kind entirely.  
   
Gene can see Sam's pulse beating in his neck and he can't for the life of him remember the point he was trying to make. So instead he leans in and kisses him.  
   
   
2\.   
   
Gene's awakening is slow; a gradual surfacing through soft layers of sleep and half-dreams before he's aware of his surroundings. Sensation ripples through him, thick and liquid like honey, and he realises that Sam has taken him in his mouth and is sucking him, slowly and gently, at the very edges of arousal.   
   
Gene sighs and Sam breaks off for a moment, sliding up to kiss him before returning to Gene's cock. Gene tastes sleep and Sam and a slight tang which he knows is himself.   
   
He reaches down to stroke a hand through Sam's hair.  
   
Sam confessed to him once, in a post-coital moment, that he liked doing this; liked feeling the weight and swell of Gene against his tongue, and Gene, not knowing what to say, had barked out a laugh and told him he sucked cock like a pro.  
   
He meant it at the time as a compliment but now he regrets those words, for all sorts of reasons, but mostly because he knows it isn't true. Oh, Sam has talent, and knows exactly how to make Gene come quickly, or how to keep him teetering on the brink until he's gasping and begging incoherently.   
   
But no pro would ever look at him like that, because it isn't just desire and arousal in Sam's heated expression and Gene knows it. He knows exactly what it is but he doesn't want to name it because as soon as he does then there's no going back.  
   
But then he looks down at Sam, at the shadows of his hollowed cheeks and the dark smudge of his eyelashes, and with a sudden clarity Gene knows: there _is_ no going back.  
   
There never was.  
   
This isn't a bargain struck for money, or even a convenient arrangement, a discreet outlet for unspoken, dangerous desires. This is real, this thing between them. It has substance and meaning, even if he doesn't know how to shape it into words.  
   
As he cups his hand gently around the back of Sam's neck, Gene only hopes that Sam can hear what's unsaid.  
   
   
3\.   
   
It's such a small thing when it happens, and it only happens because Gene has had quite a few drinks and he's distracted and he's done it loads of times before so it feels natural.   
   
The Railway Arms is crowded tonight and Gene is avidly watching the darts match because he's got money on Ray, so when Sam comes to stand next to him, handing Gene a fresh pint, Gene takes it with one hand and reaches out, unthinking, with the other. What he _meant_ to do, had he actually thought about it, was the sort of thing he occasionally does when one of the team buys him a pint, which is to give them a pat on the shoulder. But he realises with a mounting, nauseous horror that his hand has come to rest - apparently of its own accord - on Sam's hip. Worse, he thinks he may actually have patted his backside.  
   
Gene freezes, suddenly sober, and Sam shoots him a startled glance, but Gene can't just snatch his hand back because that risks drawing more attention to them, even though all eyes seem glued to the dartboard. So he just lets his hand slowly drop, and no-one says anything.  
   
Sam brings it up later once they're home, half-teasing and half-genuinely pissed-off, and Gene knows he should apologise. He knows a small thing like this is all it would take to expose them both—and suddenly the nausea is back and any sort of apology seems woefully inadequate.   
   
Tight lipped, Gene pours them both a nightcap and hands one to Sam who takes it and sighs, looking away.   
   
They don't talk about it any further.      
   
   
4\.   
   
Gene Hunt loves massage. That is to say, he loves being massaged by Sam; partly because Sam's very good at it, and partly because it's usually a prelude to sex, which Gene also loves. What Sam would call a 'win-win situation', as far as Gene is concerned.  
   
Tonight he is sprawled face-down on the bed, his earlier state of boneless relaxation slowly supplanted by the tension of arousal, and his thoughts turn to a number of appealing alternatives. They could switch places and he could take Sam from behind (always a favourite, that one), or he could simply roll over and let Sam straddle him (less effort for Gene, with the bonus of seeing Sam's face when he comes), or they haven't tried the old '69' position for a while (fun, but needs a bit of coordination).   
   
But Sam seems in no hurry; he's been working his way slowly down Gene's back and now he's kneading his buttocks, his thumbs dipping into the crack between them and sweeping out, and Gene decides he's in no hurry either.   
   
So when Sam shifts his attention lower, Gene obligingly spreads his legs slightly. But after a moment he hears Sam make a small noise of dissatisfaction then feels him moving again, spreading Gene's legs wide so that he can kneel between them, which feels a bit odd but as it means Sam can now gently rub at that sensitive bit between Gene's balls and his arse, Gene decides that he's quite happy with this development. What he isn't expecting, though, is to feel Sam's tongue, moist and supple, following the path his fingers have taken.   
   
Gene tenses up more, gripping the pillows tightly, because he's not sure how he feels about this.  
   
Sam's thumbs are stroking him gently as his fingers hold him open and he feels Sam's tongue circling then pushing deeper. And Gene's not quite sure how deep, because he's just one mass of sensitised nerve-endings and this is everything he feared and worse because it feels bloody brilliant.  
   
So that _other_ option, the one he's been trying desperately not to think about, is now staring him in the face and shutting his eyes doesn't seem to help.   
   
Sam's tongue licks a broad path and then focuses on something really sensitive and then Gene _knows_ Sam's pushing his tongue into him because he can feel the gentle, insistent pressure parting his twitching muscles.   
   
Slowly, deliberately, Gene flexes his hips, pushing back; hoping desperately that Sam will understand because he doesn't think he can bring himself to ask for this.  
   
   
5.  
   
It's late one night when Sam tells him about the future. About 2006. About his mum and Vic Tyler. About the coma, and finally waking from it only to feel more trapped in a dream than ever. And about his final leap of faith.  
   
Gene can only stare at him in horror and disbelief, although he tries, for Sam's sake, to keep his feelings from his face. He doesn't know what to say – scoffing comments vie with incredulous questions – and in the end he takes a large mouthful of scotch instead.  
   
He can see the tremor in Sam's hands, belying the calmness of his voice, and Gene suddenly understands that whatever the truth of this is, it has been a terrible burden for Sam to bear alone. And there's nothing he can say to that.  
   
So he does the only thing he can think of: he puts his arm around Sam's shoulders and pulls him into a hug. He feels Sam's breath hitch in his chest, and then his arms come around Gene in a fierce and desperate grip, like a drowning man clawing his way to dry land, and Gene knows that he has, for once, said exactly the right thing.

 

   
END


End file.
